Love Letters?
by Kratos Hates Tomatoes
Summary: Where Lithuania, Russia, and Belarus write letters to each other. Creeptastic Liet/Rus/Bel.


I know I'm insane.

I know that. Why else would I think of you when he's thrashing me, when he's got his hands me, his lips on my cheek over and over. When he says it's time to play I think of you and everything is suddenly fine.

You've hurt me in the past, but it's never been as bad. When you broke my fingers, it hurt, it hurt like hell… but when I looked at your face, at your long hair in that cute little hair band and your young face and your mesmerizing blue eyes, the pain was suddenly gone. Somehow pain doesn't affect me when I'm thinking of you. Somehow, when it's coming from you, against pain I feel invincible.

I know I'm insane. I take whatever he dishes out at me because I know I can handle it just picturing your blessed face. I could handle the whip for you. I could. I could handle knives for you; I hate knives, in fact they still frighten me every time I go to his kitchen to cook his dinner, I still start to shake uncontrollably. But for you I'd do anything. I'd even take the pipe for you, to imagine your beautiful face while he's pounding me into the ground, giggling, muttering to me in that snake tongue he made me learn, that devil language that makes my insides burn just speaking it.

Coming from your lips, even Russian doesn't sound bad.

I know you hate me, I know you ignore me for that man you call your brother. I know you love him more. But I don't mind. I don't even get jealous when you tell him you should get married, it doesn't even phase me when you wrap your arms around him and cling to him and cuddle him. How a beautiful girl like you can hate me and still be my constant source of comfort is beyond me.

I still love you. I still think of you whenever he's slowly draining me, infecting me from the inside out. I still think of your beautiful face whenever he's destroying every part of me that I have left. That means I think about you almost constantly, these days.

I know I'm insane.

* * *

Angel. My angel. You're finally mine.

You should have been here all along, my angel. At my side. Why did it take me so long to finally break you? Why did it take you so long to give in?

But, I guess none of that matters now. Because you are mine, all mine. Your body is mine _(I've beaten and taken you more than enough times to know that)_. You only tremble for me. Your mind is mine _(only I know how to get inside your head, only I know how to mold your thoughts)_.

But is your heart mine? I can feel your heartbeat go faster _(when my hand caresses your naked body or when I smile at you from across the room or when I watch you sleep, so vulnerable and lifeless)_ – but is it because you love me? Perhaps your heart is beating faster and faster, louder and louder until I can feel your heartbeat in my bones, because you are frightened of me.

So are you still not yet mine, my angel? Tell me.

Will I have to make you love me, angel?... Angel is not a good pet name for you. It means you'll fly away from me. Well, I'll make sure you love me. And if you don't I'll tie you down and rip your heart out of your chest so that your heart will be mine too. And if you try to get away, my angel, I'll hold you still _(while you scream and beg for mercy)_ and pluck out each feather one by one, rip the wings out of their joints to keep you at my side _(even as you scream for help, even as you say you'll never be mine, I know you will)_.

Say you love me, angel… my angel.

* * *

I love you, brother, I love you. Why can't you see that? I want to become one with you, but you never ask me to. It's always that Lithuanian boy. You're starting to make your sister jealous, brother.

I love you, brother, every inch of you.

Your nose that everyone says is too big _(I could cut off their noses for you brother, that way you'd be the only one with a nose and you could laugh at them for being noseless)_

and your soft silvery hair _(smells like apple, it's the shampoo you use, I started using it too brother so that when we get married you won't even have to switch shampoos)_

and your calloused hands _(they look so much better stained with blood, brother)_

and your snowy skin _(I want to get underneath it brother, inside you, I want to live inside you, brother!)_

and your huggable tummy _(the next bastard that calls you fat will meet my knife)_

Your eyes are so beautiful, I want them to only stare at me, not that Lithuanian that you seem so fond of. Brother, I want your eyes to be focused on me, to see me, notice me, brother, I could eliminate the Lithuanian boy so that you would notice me more.

That's the only thing standing in between us, brother. Not the locks. Those are so easy to destroy brother, I would destroy millions of them to be with you forever and ever. And when we finally get married you'll stop looking at him and look at me and you'll love me the way God intended.

Brother let's get married

married

married

We should get MARRIED

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